


Snow Warning

by Nygmatech (orphan_account)



Category: Pocket Monsters: Gold & Silver & Crystal | Pokemon Gold Silver Crystal Versions
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:12:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Nygmatech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oak always comes to him in the winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Warning

Snow Warning

It rains the day Pryce sees him again. The temperature is not quite freezing, the precipitation coming down in a not-quite-solid, sloshy mixture of snow and water somewhere inbetween winter and fall—it cakes up on the collar of Pryce's blue winter coat, flattens the soft tufts of his remaining white hair to his scalp.

And just around the bend of Lake Rage, Professor Samuel Oak's eyes are the same mottled gray as the water. He is struggling through the long grass sans-lab coat, completely underdressed for the weather. Pryce wonders, if Oak realizes it is not the weather causing the wild Pokemon to shy away from him.

The Gym Leader smiles a little, a crinkling of the already lined skin around his eyes as he watches Froslass, hovering unnoticed over Oak's shoulder and making faces at the shivering Pokemon starting to rear out of the grass. She has always been quite the escape artist, and this must be why one of Pryce's pokeballs is sitting at his belt empty. Pokemon and people are not so much different. Oak was as much a friend to the small Snorunt of all those years ago as he was to her master.

So Pryce lets her bring Oak to him, because these sorts of thing matter—Pokemon are pack creatures, and Oak is a member of the pack who has been gone for a long time, finally returned—though he cannot help but laugh the slightest when Oak jumps as Froslass manifests in front of him, nuzzling his cheek with her powder snow skin.

And Oak finally looks up at Pryce, his eyes weary and tired as he absently brings a hand up to curve around Froslass's hollow skull, a familiar gesture. He is trembling with the cold, soaking wet with the snow and rain where he stands. Everything is silent, for a moment, the only sound the spattering of the snow-rain on the grass, the movement of the lake, before Oak averts his eyes and gives off a troubled sigh.

"It's been a long time," Oak says, heavily, voice a little gruff, and Pryce smiles, wryly.

"Samuel," he acknowledges, his voice high and soft like the snow. It has been a long time since he said that name, longer still since Oak has let him. He misses that, too.

"I was—I need… I'm going to climb Mt. Silver. Tomorrow. I need… research. For a conference in Goldenrod."

Pryce almost stops breathing, and memories flood black—himself, an impetuous young trainer atop the summit of the mountain, secluded in the snow. Another young man, impetuous as himself, with wild auburn hair and a serious face, climbing to meet him. To bring him home… but he never did.

Of course, nothing surprises him anymore. But he almost is, when Oak lets Mt. Silver slip.

(There are rumors now. Of another young trainer, silent and secluded on the peak, the strongest trainer in the world—and the other trainer, just as strong, with his wild honey-colored hair, the visage of his grandfather, who climbs the mountain. A reminder that Pryce, like Red, had lost something more than a friend; in Oak, in Green. He wonders if Green will have any more success bringing Red back.)

But Pryce just leans heavily on his cane, his smile very soft as he says, gently (because he knows, of course, why Oak is here), "you have climbed the mountain before, Samuel."

"Yes," Oak says, haltingly. "That was a long time ago."

"Come home," Pryce tells him, and absent, murmured command, as if calling a lover back to bed, and he carefully winds his scarf around Oak's neck, hands lingering on the sodden lapels of his light coat. Oak lets him. "We'll start out in the morning."


End file.
